


Fated by Our Fingertips

by IceSapphire27



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU, Canon Era, Dragons, Empathy, Empathy AU, Fate & Destiny, I APOLOGIZE, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Merthur - Freeform, Multi, Prince Merlin, Prophecy, Star Trek inspired, There is magic i believe, Touch empathy, Well Vulcan mind meld inspired, What even am i writing, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 10:58:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5372798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceSapphire27/pseuds/IceSapphire27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Destined to feel other's emotions, Merlin, prince of Ealdor, still has much to learn about his abilities. Only now is he beginning to learn about his purpose and the truth behind his magic. Camelot's stone walls hide dark secrets. Arthur and Merlin must find their way through betrayal, prophecies, and love if they are to escape Fate's grasp. With only two princes, five knights, a physician, a servant, a dragon, and a table will they be able to rewrite their future?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fated by Our Fingertips

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Star Trek: TOS fandom. I guess I've been reading too much about Vulcans. Hope you enjoy.

The thick wooden door groaned in protest as gloved hands pushed against it.

Trying to persuade it open proved fruitless. Years of disuse had rusted the iron hinges shut.

There was a window near the back of the cottage that could provide entrance. But the window was locked and would not budge.

Growing more desperate, the young man began scrabbling at the cold ground, searching for a large stone. Thoughts of the growling from last night and his mother beside him filled his head.

The only thing that matter was finding shelter. And right now, it seemed the sealed cottage was the only shelter they had.

But what use was a safe room if you were on the wrong side?

A calloused hand on his shoulder sent terror into the young man’s heart. Looking up from his frantic search, the man met his mother’s eyes with relief.

She was still alive. They were still alive. Nothing had happened. The Beast wasn’t here.

_Yet._

Renewed with determination, the boy grasped the smooth cool surface of quartz in his gloved hand. He quickly transformed the window into a pile of shards on the brittle autumn grass.

Who knew hope could take the form of a stone?

Stepping through the jagged hole, he quickly surveyed the inside of the aged cottage. He was in a dining area, which was only furnished with wooden table and three makeshift chairs. There were two doors, the front entrance and one presumably leading to a bedroom. It was much smaller than he was used to.

And no one was home.

He moved to the bedroom and stripped the bed of its sheets. Folding the rough fabric carefully in his hands, he gently covered the sharp glass edges on the bottom of the window. Hopefully that would protect his mother from the glass.

With her son’s help, she got through with only a little difficulty.

She sat down on one of the, frankly unstable, chairs and watched her son nervously pace around the cottage. He fortified all possible entrances, including the chimney. If anything, he was prepared.

 “Merlin.”

Blue eyes turned to the voice, barely finding her silhouette in the fading evening light.

“Merlin, come here,” she said, gesturing towards herself.

Merlin slowly walked closer, careful not to trip on the uneven floor. Once in front of her, Merlin kneeled down till he was at eye level with his mother.

She smiled and gave him a fond look.

“Dear, you’ll wear the floor down with your worrying. Nothing is going to happen,” she reassured him.

Seeing the obvious concern in his expression, she realized how much he looked like his father. Every day it seemed that Merlin’s bright blue eyes turned a shade closer to the thoughtful brown she remembered from so many years ago.

Knowing Merlin, he was probably more worried about her than he was about himself.

“Everything will be alright,” she said in a tired, but certain voice.

Merlin smiled slightly despite himself. His mother, Hunith, was strong. She always was. He had never seen anything that could make her go back on her word, nor anything that could keep her from helping others. She was always sure about the things she cared about. Especially the people she loved.

Merlin was lucky to have a parent like her.

Hunith sighed at the distant look on her son’s face. She wanted to comfort him, and decided on something she probably wouldn’t have, had the situation not been as dire.

Trying not to startle him, Hunith tentatively placed her fingertips on her son’s face.

Touch empathy was a tricky thing.

Not only did it convey the most prominent emotions a person experienced, but also the buried, and perhaps underlying, emotions as well.

And so, Merlin was encompassed by his mother’s love and the fierce desire to protect him, but also sensed the deep rooted fear she had tried to suppress. She was scared, terrified actually, of what would happen to them. No one had ever encountered the Beast and survived.

She could hide the fear in her voice, but not in her mind.

But Merlin knew that she was not aware of the depth of his empathy. Not even Merlin knew the true depth of his ability.

He never learned to control his empathy. No teacher would train him, because empathy was an extremely rare power and although magic was legal in Ealdor, many people still looked down on the practice. And some even opposed it enough to kill.

Hunith feared for her son’s safety and was forced into silence by peoples’ cruelty.

So instead of learning to use his abilities, Merlin was taught to hide it with leather gloves and locked doors.

There was one person though that could teach him the meaning of his abilities. He was a physician who helped Merlin’s mother when no one else would. Merlin never heard his name, but he hoped one day to meet him.

He lived in Camelot, and that was all Merlin knew.

It was ironic really, finally getting the chance to visit Camelot, after so many years of anticipating, in this situation.

The gods really were laughing at him.

Regardless of the circumstances, his mother was trying hard to console him. She meant well, and he recognized that.

Smiling at her sadly, Merlin turned his face into Hunith’s palm. She was startled. Neither of them was accustomed to touching the other.

Ever since he was a toddler, when Merlin’s ability was discovered, he had refrained from any unnecessary skin contact with others. Even his own mother.

Merlin dimly noticed the murmuring connection grow louder in his ears.

He knew that more contact with another person, meant the more powerful his empathy would be.

However, Merlin also knew that the connection was one-sided. And all she felt was the touch of her son for the first time in months.

She had tried to comfort him, and now it was his turn.

Hunith’s eyes pricked with tears. Merlin had grown so much. He was kind person she had raised him to be. He wasn’t a boy anymore. He had grown up.

She also felt remorse at the childhood Merlin had. He was raised in isolated. Sure he interacted with others, but he was always forced to be distant, cut off. He could never be himself. The carefree, kind, and beautiful person she knew was forced behind a protective barrier.

He never had friends because he didn’t like lying to others. He never escaped the constant worry of his magic being found out. And she could tell by the look in his eyes that he had learned to fear himself.

She was a horrible mother.

Merlin watched, stunned as a silent tear ran down his mother’s cheek.

He had never seen her cry before.

Merlin raked his mind for something to do to help.

Closing his eyes, Merlin thought of the happiest memory he had.

When he was twelve he found a dragon egg in an old Druid cave. He named the dragon Aithusa. He wasn’t sure what their name meant, but it just felt like it fit. Aithusa’s scales were like the color of dawn, bright and pure.

Merlin came back every night with more food and blankets. The baby dragon never spoke, unlike the many tales claimed. Instead he used his empathy, which surprisingly worked with magical creatures, and Merlin taught them how to fly. One day, when he came to visit, Merlin found an empty cave with no sign of Aithusa. He hadn’t seen them since.

Reliving the happiness of that moment eight years ago, Merlin tried to project that feeling through the calloused hand against his face. He knew the connection was, in theory, one-sided, but he had never tried pushing an emotion over it before. Perhaps it would work.

Hunith felt a wave of contentment roll over her and she smiled, knowing it was her son’s doing.

Looking down at Merlin, kneeling on the cold, earthen ground in an abandoned cottage, far away from home, she lowered her hand and whispered, “thank you,” into the darkness.

Merlin gave a small nod in return. He got up and stood back straighter with resolve, looking every bit the prince he was.

Nothing was going to happen tonight. Not if he had any say in it.

 

* * *

 

Hooves thudded against the well-worn path.

Five dark horses walked forward under the pale crescent moon.

Each horse’s rider was clocked, all emblems hidden from sight.

Even the constant rustling of the forest’s leaves could not dispel the unnerving silence surrounding them.

The unearthly hours and unsettling night were bad enough, but there was something else that weighed heavily on their minds.

The urgency and secrecy of the mission were peculiar and the instructions vague. Nothing about this was clear.

Even the leader, Arthur Pendragon, did not know the intentions behind the mission. He had tried to question his father, but he refused to give in. He only said that it was to repay a favor and that they were to receive the two persons, a man and woman, and bring them back to Camelot as quickly as possible.

The farther they rode, the more certain Arthur was that they wouldn’t find the meeting spot.

The Forest of Ealdor was thick and foreign. Hardly anyone from Camelot stepped foot in these woods if one could help it. It was dangerous and filled with dark magic. In the forest, one could still find the Old Religion living in the trees, which still remembered the words of ancient.

 Navigating was almost impossible. The canopy was dense, and blocked out the stars and moonlight. To make matters worse, the forest trail seemed to doubling back on itself; they passed by the same broken tree twice.

Trying to travel down a path that seemed to move was difficult as it was, and the stories about the fate of people who traveled these same paths did not help.

As Arthur unmounted to regain his bearings, the four other knights glanced at the threatening tress nervously. Straining to hear above the constant wind, the knights heard a low, almost inaudible, growl and felt an inhuman presence approach them from behind.

Their hands rested on the hilts of their swords as they felt it, whatever it was, come closer.

A snapped twig to their right put the knights on high alert. They waited, ready to attack.

By the time they listened for growling again, the presence was gone.

Arthur, oblivious to what just occurred, turned back to his companions with a smile. He knew the way to go, they were actually a lot further than expected.

They all looked at him silently.

The only one that returned the smile was Gwaine, his easy demeanor not dampened by the tense environment.

Arthur started to mount his horse, a strong dark brown steed, when Gwaine called out with a grin.

“Ready to go, Princess?”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the ending. I promise they'll meet in the next chapter. Also, Aithusa's gender was never specified. So, I'm sorry if it wasn't grammatically correct, but frankly I do not care. 
> 
> Uther is still alive. Obviously. I know the knights, excluding Leon, don't really become knights of Camelot until 'The Coming of Arthur,' but I've changed it so they have been knights while Arthur is still crown prince. Sorry.
> 
> I can't write. I'm sorry about this. 
> 
> If you have any questions or suggestions please let me know.
> 
> Please comment and leave kudos!


End file.
